


Must Love Intersectionality

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Feminist Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy hates his stupid history of colonialism class, until he makes a friend. Weirdly, the friend isn't actually in his class, they just share the same desk and like to write angry notes about the patriarchy. Bellamy's a fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Must Love Intersectionality

**Author's Note:**

> From the Tumblr prompt "We write notes to each other on the desk we share at different times and I never knew who I was talking to until I saw you stay behind after class to write on it and holy shit yoU’RE HOT." Because why not.

Bellamy's never been one of those people who doodles on his desk. He doesn't much care if other people do it, but his rebellious streak tends more toward drunk and semi-disorderly than vandalism. It's just a personal preference.

But then he sits down in his usual seat for the third session of his history of colonialism class and sees a small, neat note in the corner of the desk that says, _fuck non-intersectional feminists_ , decorated with flowers, with hearts dotting the i's. It's the cutest angry message he has ever seen, and he agrees with the sentiment once he's googled it. 

The message definitely wasn't there last time he was here, so whoever did it drew it recently, probably in direct response to someone being a dick, so he adds, _or don't, they don't deserve to get laid_. It looks a little severe, considering how pretty the original note is, but he's not much of an artist, so he just adds a smiley face.

Then he feels stupid and changes into an ugly flower. It's not really much better, but it's thematically appropriate, so he figures that's as good as it's going to get and turns his attention back to the lecture.

The next time he has class, he's got a response to his comment-- _good point, they're just the worst_ \--and the ugly flower he drew has leaves and a whole bunch of other flowers surrounding it, like it's in a meadow or some shit.

He grins to himself, and the dude sitting next to him shoots him a weird look, which, fuck him. Their professor is a total dick, and Bellamy is honestly only not dropping because he wants to argue with the guy. Having a weird desk buddy is the best thing that's happened to him in this class. So he adds, _patriarchy delendus est_ to their little conversation, and then a picture of a bunny, for good measure.

The first thing he does next class is check for a new note, and sure enough, his penpal has replied, _I had to google that and ended up missing half the lecture because I got sucked into wikipedia. Thanks :P_

And suddenly it's a thing. Bellamy develops some sort of bizarre, graffiti-based correspondence with this person--he thinks they're a girl, based on handwriting, but given their opinions on non-intersectional feminism, he's going to stick to neutral pronouns and not make any assumptions about their gender identity--and it's the only thing that gets him through some of his lectures. When he writes _stop being wrong about colonial genocide_ , he gets back _illegitimi non carborundum (am I doing fake Latin right?)_ , and when his friend says _did you know I want to kill half the people in this class_ , he replies, _have you considered not putting your murder plans in writing on a public forum? just a tip_.

No one else gets involved for a while, which surprises him; there can't possibly only be two people who use this desk. But it's a month and a half of before an unknown third hand finally writes, _I ship this_ , off to the side, like they don't want to interrupt. Bellamy's little sister is involved enough in fandom that he knows exactly what that means, so he just adds _OTP_ with a smiley face before returning to his actual conversation.

Next week, his friend has decorated his letters, making them ornate, like it's an illuminated manuscript about their ship, and he takes a picture with his phone and texts it to Octavia.

He does think, kind of idly, about trying to get in touch with the mystery person, but leaving something like his name or email address or phone number on a desk--especially a desk where he has done some pretty unrestrained shit-talking--seems like a bad idea. And it's not like he really knows this person at all.

"You think it's a girl and you're into her," Miller says, absent, while Bellamy is still trying to talk around the subject.

"They seem cool," Bellamy says. "I like anyone who shit-talks the patriarchy. And, yeah, if they're a girl who's into guys, I'd definitely ask them out. Or non-binary and into guys." He pauses. "It's maybe been too long since I got laid. I have a thing for a desk."

Miller snorts. "Yeah, so do something about it."

"Like what, stalk the classroom and watch every person who sits in that desk, trying to figure out which one it is? I don't even know when their class is."

"Some romance novel shit," says Miller. " _Meet me at the library, wear a red rose, I'll be the pathetic one_."

"That doesn't really narrow it down at the library," Bellamy muses. "There are plenty of pathetic people."

Miller just shakes his head. "Do _something_ ," he advises. "This is getting sad."

Weirdly, though, Bellamy doesn't agree. He's always happy to own his own stupidity, but he thinks this one is actually fine, all things considered. Trying to stalk his desk buddy would be way sadder than just letting a kind of weird friendship evolve on its own. And he's pretty happy with what he's got. Aside from the history of colonialism, his classes are good, he has friends, he's got a job lined up after graduation that will keep in town. He is doing really well with his life. And his desk buddy is fun. It doesn't need to be anything more than that.

And then one week he's staying after class to argue with Professor Wallace, and the next class starts to trickle in.

He glances at his own desk idly, automatically, and then does an actual double-take when he sees the girl who settles in, a pretty blonde he vaguely recognizes. He really _has_ seen her at the library, surrounded by textbooks, hair in a messy bun. They'd exchanged a nod of _it is two in the morning and we are both in the library and I'm glad neither of us is a serial killer_ at some point, which he just remembers because, again, she's very pretty. 

"We'll have to finish this discussion later, Mr. Blake," says Professor Wallace. "I believe the room is needed."

"Yeah," says Bellamy, only half-listening. The blonde is studying the desk, biting her lip as she smiles, and--fuck--getting out a pen to respond. "Sorry to keep you," he adds, and deliberately walks down the aisle next to his desk as he leaves. Class was a nightmare, so his message was fairly annoyed: _Dear guy supporting colonialism, I am going to come to your room and shit on your stuff to see how you like it_.

The blonde has written _my hero_ in her spot, and she's decorating it with a Superman S when Bellamy gets to her. Her class is about to start so he can't say anything, so he just knocks on the desk, making her start, and gives her a smile and wave when she looks up at him. She turns a little pink, and, god, he's _fucked_.

He resists the urge to go to the library more than usual, which means he still goes a lot, but he's not spending every minute there, hoping she'll show up. If she's there while he is, he doesn't run into her, and he's weirdly relieved. Not that he doesn't want to see her, he's just not sure what he's going to say. Chances are good it will be along the lines of _want to talk about social justice and make out_ , which isn't exactly smooth. Even if there's some evidence she'd be into that.

He really hopes she's into that.

When he gets to class on Wednesday, he finds the message he'd already seen, _my hero_ , with the Superman shield as well as logos for Batman and the X-Men, a lightning bolt he thinks is the Flash, and a couple others he can't identify. It's hard to really pay attention to them, because under that she wrote, _PS: You're cute_ , small and careful, and that's way more interesting.

Someone else--the shipper, he assumes--added an _OMG_ and some hearts. Bellamy underlines that twice and adds three exclamation points, and then he ignores the first half of his lecture trying to decide what to say.

He ends up with, _You too. I'm in the library most weeknights before dinner, like five to seven. Third floor. For your reference._

At the end of class, he takes a picture of the entire thing, because it really is a work of art. They've taken up half the desk with their inept flirtation, and her illustrations give the whole exchange a kind of legitimacy. It's pretty, with a strong _fuck the patriarchy_ vibe.

He texts the picture to Octavia and thinks about lingering by the door, waiting for the girl, as he files out behind his classmates, but it feels kind of gross. And maybe a little presumptuous.

But maybe it wouldn't have been, because he's completely fucking relieved when he sees her waiting for him, leaning against the wall, posture overly casual as she watches the people coming out the door.

He goes to stand next to her, just as casual. His heart is going crazy.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi."

"I left you a message."

She smiles. "I thought you might." Her voice is a little huskier than he thought it would be, and her eyes are clear and blue. She has a mole on her lip. "You're not what I was expecting."

"Yeah? What were you expecting?"

"Honestly? A girl."

He laughs. "Yeah, I can see that." He offers his hand. "I'm Bellamy."

"Clarke."

"It's nice to meet you, Clarke. Officially."

"You too." She catches her lip with his teeth, and he tries not to stare at her mouth. "I have class. Obviously. I just--I wanted to say hi."

"I'm glad." He nods, mostly to himself. "Like I said, there's a message, so--"

"Right."

"I'll see you later," he says, and leaves before she can reply. He'd like to say it's because he wants to be cool and mysterious, but he's actually just mildly terrified. She's beautiful and smells really good and he needs to rehearse things to say to her so he doesn't just say, well, _that_.

He grabs his books from his room and heads to the third floor to hope she'll show up. His phone buzzes on his way there, and he sees Octavia has texted, _Already saw it on tumblr. It's got like 10k notes. You're a meme, bro._ It's a frankly terrifying statement, so he chooses to ignore it for the time being.

It's around 5:30 when Clarke shows up. There's no fanfare, she just puts her books down next to his and says, "So, what's your terrible class?"

He can't help smiling. "History of colonialism. It would be pretty cool if the professor wasn't on the pro-colonialism side."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. You?"

"Feminist representation in media. Me and a couple other people keep trying to argue works can't be feminist if they're also racist or transphobic, and the rest of the class isn't buying it. It's giving me a really long list of people to punch in the face."

He grins. "I bet."

"My dad says I should drop Women's and Gender Studies as a major for the good of my blood pressure, but everyone needs a hobby, right? Mine is being righteously indignant."

"Pretty good hobby," he says. 

"I also just learned how to knit."

"I play a lot of 2048." He worries his lip, considering. "Did you know we're on Tumblr?"

"What?"

He pulls out his phone and shows her Octavia's text. "From my sister. Apparently we have fans."

Clarke puts her hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter, which is adorable. "Oh my god. It's probably that person who said they shipped us. That's--oh my god."

"Well, this is what we get for writing each other incredibly public notes. We're probably lucky our profs haven't noticed or haven't cared."

"True." She rests her chin on her hand, regarding him, eyes warm and bright. She's even better than he thought she'd be. "So, Bellamy. What are you doing after this?"

"Honestly, all I had planned for tonight was hoping you showed up," he says. "My roommate was telling me I should stop being pathetic and work on meeting you, so--yeah."

"Yeah?"

He shrugs. "I don't meet a lot of people who are willing to deface public property so they can complain about the patriarchy."

"You're hanging out with the wrong people."

"Clearly," he says. "That's why I'm hoping you're going to hang out with me more."

"I'll buy you dinner if you'll put out," she says, grinning.

He grins back. "Deal."

*

Clarke didn't respond to his message about the library, but three other people did, as Bellamy discovers when he gets to class. The first one, the shipper, has written _UPDATE PLZ_ , another person has added, _seriously I have been telling my friends about this, I need to know_ , and then the last said, _Is every class in this room really boring? Why is this the best thing in our lives? Why do I care about this?_

Bellamy draws a picture of a cannon, which he figures should be sufficient information for anyone who uses the term "shipping" in desk notes. Besides, it'll give Octavia another good update for that tumblr post about them. She already confirmed that her brother was involved and he had a date with the other party lined up. He did not mention putting out, but he's pretty sure she got it anyway.

If he and Clarke don't break up, they are going to have the best fucking _how we met_ story for their kids.

"A cannon?" she asks, after she's kissed him on the cheek and settled in next to him at their regular library table. "Really?"

"Too subtle?"

"Too dorky."

"What did you add?"

"I just said _He aced the oral exam_ with a smiley face."

Bellamy half-chokes and half-snorts, and she beams. "You're a real role model, Griffin."

"Well, I put a bunch of flowers around it," she says, pulling out her laptop. "So that makes it okay, right?"

"Yeah," he says, leaning in to kiss her. "Absolutely perfect."

**Author's Note:**

> To save you some googling, "patriarchy delendus est" is a reference to "[Carthago delenda est](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carthago_delenda_est)," which you may assume no living human is dorky enough to casually reference, but my brother totally does.


End file.
